


Be careful what you wish for

by Wapwani



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Snow is not awful - which surprised me as much as anyone, baby Hope makes a cameo, mention of Hook - but no appearance, they bicker 'coz they love, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wapwani/pseuds/Wapwani
Summary: What happens after you get everything you think you should want, but then it turns to ashes. Also, Emma learns to use her words.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally on tumblr, over the span of 4 days (well, 4 nights to be more precise), and fuelled by snarkiness and very little sleep.
> 
> Also, originally rated T; it's very definitely M though.

 

They’re in the kitchen, of course. It’s not strange that they often gravitate to this room. Junior (that’s the name that has stuck to the Wish realm version of Henry, much to Regina’s chagrin. Although even she has to admit it’s better than Mini-Me, or Hazza) is as fond of his mother’s cooking as the older version of himself ever was. And he may be a king by some rights, but he is predominantly an adolescent, and possessed of the appetite that comes with it. So invariably, whenever Emma came to visit, this was where she’d find them - the people she automatically thought of as the rest of her family - with Regina teaching Junior and Lucy how to cook, Henry and Ella leaning up against the counter, helping chop and mix in-between stolen kisses, everyone laughing and warm and close.

Sometimes Emma felt like an intruder when she slipped into the room, but that lasted only until Regina spotted her. Then Regina’s eyes would soften and her smile broaden and she’d hold out her arms for Hope, and Emma would feel like she was finally home.

Tonight however, it was just the two of them. Snow and Ella were babysitting, Hook and David had taken Henry and Junior fishing, Regina had been holed up in meetings all day, and Emma had been bored and miserable on the night shift. She’d driven by Regina’s office about every half hour. Regina still governed from her mayoral offices, Storybrooke now being the central location of government for all the realms.

Even with the added realms to protect, Emma found the primary duty of the sheriff was to fill and file paperwork. There did exist other law enforcement officers in the other realms, and after a few months of confused bickering and training and workshops and forming of committees (Snow and David had been in their element there), they had worked out a system where they all coordinated their duties. Emma was nominally in charge of all the other divisions, but really all that meant was yet more paperwork for her to read and try to find creative ways to ignore.

Bored and miserable seemed to be her default state just now.

But at least her regular patrols by Regina’s office meant she knew when she’d called it a night and headed home. Emma gave her a head start before following, wanting to give Regina a chance to unwind a little before having to play host.

 

When she got to the manor, Regina was still in her regular work clothes (which today meant a dark blue, sleeveless, wonderfully fitted little number, with an intriguingly situated zipper). She’d taken off the jacket when she got home, and kicked off her shoes; so she was barefoot, with her hair ever-so-slightly disheveled around her face, when Emma came knocking at her door.

“Just in time for a glass of pinotage” she said when she saw Emma, then laughed at the face Emma made. “Don’t worry. I have some ale too.” (One of the advantages of all the realms being together now meant much more extensive offerings of food and drink).

Emma trailed after Regina, pausing first to take off her boots and jacket. By the time she got to the kitchen, Regina had already poured her a tankard of ale, and was sipping her own glass of ruby-red wine. Blood-red. Thick and dark and so heady, Emma could feel the power of it from across the room.

“Rough day?” she asked, after she’d slaked her own thirst with a healthy slug of ale.

Regina shrugged. “I’ve had better. Have you eaten?”

Emma smiled. She could feel herself calming already. The boredom and misery settling and twisting and transforming into a low hum of contented happiness.

“Stale doughnut,” she said, correctly anticipating Regina’s fond eye roll.

They sat across the kitchen table from each other, chatting over plates of leftovers and more alcohol. Emma allowed herself to be persuaded to try some of Regina’s wine. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever tasted, with chocolatey notes under the tart fullness of berry flavours. She found herself wondering what the wine would taste like on Regina’s tongue. She groaned. Not this again.

“What’s wrong?” Regina asked, worried. “You didn’t even eat that much.”

“Are you happy?” Emma asked.

“That’s a strange question,” Regina replied. She wasn’t deflecting, not really. She was preoccupied with clearing off the table, and it wasn’t like she and Emma didn’t have strange conversations about all sorts of odd things all the time. “Do you mean today specifically, because let me tell you, there are some realms out there who are going a little overboard with the indoor plumbing thing and-“

“Are you happy being Queen?”

That gave Regina pause, and she turned to face Emma. She leaned against the counter, a faint frown creasing the skin between her eyes, and searched Emma’s face for some clue as to what was prompting these questions.

“What’s going on, Emma?”

Emma stood and leaned against the table. She had Regina’s wine glass in her hands, toying with the stem. It was cool and smooth under her fingers, and she wondered how much pressure it would take to snap the delicate glass. Probably not very much at all.

As though she’d read her thoughts, Regina reached out and covered Emma’s hands with her own, stilling her nervous fidgeting. “Emma?”

“Is it everything you thought it’d be? Did you get everything you thought you should want? The love and respect of thousands? Power beyond measure? -“

“Mountains of paperwork? A bureaucratic labyrinth so convoluted even a magic mirror couldn’t save me?”

“Oh,” Emma said softly.

Regina brushed her hand up Emma’s arm, coming to rest on her bicep. “Emma,” she said again, equally softly. “It’s alright, Saviour. You can rest now. I’m happy.”

The choked sound Emma made then was part sob, part laughter, all pain.

“You ever get everything you ever thought you should want, and then it all turns to ashes?”

Regina’s eyes widened as she realised they’d been talking at cross-purposes. Emma wasn’t seeking confirmation that Regina had finally found her happy ending, she was trying to tell Regina that something was wrong with _hers._

“Hook,” she breathed, making the word a curse. “Has he hurt you?”

“No. Nothing like that.”She shook her head in frustration. “It’s just..it’s not..he’s not. He’s just _there!_ You know. Just there. All the time. He’s not doing anything. That’s half the problem!” She was ranting now, waving her hands about for emphasis, forcing Regina to rescue the wineglass or risk being showered in the dregs of wine that sloshed precariously in the bottom of the glass.

“He laughs at all my jokes. All of them. Even the really dumb ones. And he sings sea shanties to Hope. He sings about rum and dead men and treasure and I think he wants her to grow up to be a pirate, Regina! A pirate!”

“There’s not a lot of job security-“

“He doesn’t like popcorn and he thinks sex will solve all our problems and I am _bored,_ Regina!”

“Have you considered talking to Archie? I’m sure he does couples-“

“You know what I have considered,” Emma growled. “Virtually every night, for weeks now? This!” She surged forward, pinning Regina against the counter, and kissed her.

Regina squeaked in surprise, and for one glorious moment, actually kissed Emma back.

Emma sighed with the pleasure of that, with the heady joy of finally feeling Regina’s mouth moving warm and soft against her own. She angled her head a little so she could nibble along Regina’s jaw. Her hands smoothed along Regina’s hips, fingers seeking to curl and cup around her ass so she could lift her up onto the counter.

“Really?” Regina’s voice was rough, and so angry Emma shuddered. “Are you going to fuck me with his ring still on your finger?”

Emma froze.

“Go be bored somewhere else.”

“Regina -“

“Go home Emma.”


	2. Chapter 2

Snow heard noises and was on her feet and half-way down the stairs, one of their spare training swords clutched menacingly in her hands, before her brain had quite caught up with things.

The intruder hadn’t set off any of the perimeter alarms, the dogs hadn’t barked, the warding spells Regina had cast around their new house hadn’t reduced anyone to a screaming puddle of goo. Snow relaxed the fierce look on her face a little and lowered her sword - but only slightly; Snow’s family had been through too much for her to be too relaxed about a potential attack, even in these days of unification.

The children were sleeping where she had left them, Neal and Lucy’s sleeping bags flanking Hope’s bassinet; Ella slumbered peacefully on the pull-out couch. And in the leather armchair by the fireplace, watching broodingly over them all, was their unexpected visitor.

“Emma?” Snow spoke softly, not wanting to disturb anyone else, but Ella still stirred.

“Whuzzit?” she muttered, eyes fluttering rapidly as she started to wake.

“Shhh,” Snow soothed, leaning over Ella so she wouldn’t see the sword and worry. “It’s only me. Go back to sleep.”

“‘k Gr’nma,” Ella murmured, turning over and burrowing into her blanket.

Snow smiled wryly at that. Ella rarely called her that when she was more aware, her conscious tongue not quite able to overcome the evidence of her eyes. It was hard for her to think of a woman, who appeared to be only a fistful of years older than her, as grandmother.

Emma must have noticed that reaction too, because she snorted with laughter, causing her mother to frown and hiss a warning at her.

“Kitchen,” Snow mouthed, jerking her head for Emma to follow. She placed her sword on the table, and pulled two mugs out of the cupboard. “Cocoa or milk?” she asked, when she heard the shuffle of Emma’s sock-clad feet behind her.

“Can I have some whisky in my cocoa?” Emma asked as she slumped into a chair.

Snow stiffened, but only said, “Sure.” When she’d put the drinks in front of them, taking the seat across from Emma, she asked “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Emma replied.

Her voice was sad, and Snow frowned. But she’d learned patience - it hadn’t been easy and she still wasn’t always very good at it, but she’d learned it - so she waited, letting the quiet of the kitchen and the comfort of the hot drink ease Emma into talking.

“Did you ever get bored? With David?”

Snow’s eyes widened. Of all the things she could possibly have imagined her daughter creeping into her house in the middle of the night to talk about, asking for sex advice wouldn’t have even made it into the top twenty.

“No,” she replied, honestly if a little smugly, “I’ve no complaints there. But I’ve heard stories. There are books, places on the internet you could go to look up…I could help! I’m getting pretty good at google and -“

The horrified look on her daughter’s face was Snow’s first clue that she may perhaps have been mistaken in her assumption as to the reason for Emma’s visit.

“I don’t mean…that,” Emma said, her face twisting with distress at the thought of what her mother had been inferring. “We are perfectly fine with _that._ I mean - bored. Like…bored of his face and his voice and his stupid, _stupid_ recounting of all his adventures and his-“

Now it was Snow’s turn to look horrified. “No, Emma!” she said vehemently. “Never. I love your father!”

“Right,” Emma muttered. “Love.”

Snow leaned forward, her voice lowering. “Are you and Killian having trouble in _that_ department?”

Emma groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand falling out of love, Emma,” Snow said gently. “I’m not a complete fool. Not every love is True Love.”

Emma started to laugh, verging on the hysteric. “Really? In _this_ family? It’s like we _invented_ it!”

“Emma,” Snow said, closing her hands over Emma’s clenched fists. “How long have you felt…or not felt…I suppose…” she trailed off helplessly, out of her depth despite her protestations otherwise.

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. It didn’t strike me in a moment of blinding realisation.” She sighed. “That would’ve been easier I think. It just sort of…crept up on me. Every day was a little bit worse than the last, then one morning I suddenly wanted to bury his face in his oatmeal so I didn’t have to look at it any more.”

“You’re not under some kind of spell?”

“I asked the fairies to check me out,” Emma replied glumly. That had been an interesting conversation, and the investigative spell the fairies had cast still itched against her own power.

“And you’ve tried talking about it with him?”

“Yup. He just thinks we should have more sex.” (Every time she’d said she wanted something more, Hook had brought home a new brown-paper wrapped box. And she’d been willing to try, for the sake of their marriage. But she was chaffing in places no one should ever have to worry about chaffing in, and she was even less interested in spending time with her husband outside of the bedroom than she had been before)

“And that’s not-”

“It’s not the sex, Mum!”

“Okay, okay. I’m just asking.”

“I don’t love him anymore. I just…don’t.”

“Well,” Snow said in a decisive tone, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going to have to end the marriage.”

_“What?!”_ Emma spluttered.

“It’s not fair, to stay married to someone you don’t love. It’s doing a disservice to him. And to Hope. And to you.”

_“Excuse_ me?” Emma spluttered again, still not believing she was hearing advice to call it quits from the realm’s primary purveyor of hope and belief in love.

“If what you felt for Hook was _true_ love, then it wouldn’t have faded. It would be stronger today than it was the first day you realised you loved him. And if what you have isn’t _true_ love, then…well, it’s just wrong to stay married. You’ll never be happy, Emma. Is that the example you want to set for Hope?”

Emma seemed to shrink into herself. “But what if I never find it?” she asked, her voice small. “What if I never find what you and dad have?”

Snow frowned. “Impossible. As you said, our family virtually invented True Love.” She smiled encouragingly, back on familiar territory now, the words of a hope speech already lining up on her tongue. “It’s in your blood Emma, in your very bones. You may have already met the person and you just haven’t realised it yet because-” She broke off when she saw Emma wince. “You _have,_ haven’t you. There _is_ someone-”

“Snow-”

“Who?! No, wait. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but really Emma, maybe I can help.” The words tumbled out of her. Snow really had learned a little bit about keeping her nose out of other people’s secrets, but it was so _hard_ to stick to resolutions when it was her daughter and _true love_ at stake.

“It’s not as easy as all that. I’ve totally screwed things up. She’s never going to-”

_“She,”_ Snow breathed, excited at the clue. “Not Lily, that would just be weird. Kathryn’s obviously not interested. Mulan? It’s Mulan, isn’t it!”

“Snow,” Emma said, staring at her mother as though she’d grown a second head. “It’s not Mulan. If you must know, and you can’t repeat this to _any_ one, it’s Regina. But-”

“Regina!”

Emma frowned. “You had better be very careful what you say next.”

“But Emma…she’s…she’s…she’s your _best friend!”_

“So?” The word dripped with confusion.

“You can’t..you can’t feel that way about your best friend! I mean..okay, fine perhaps she’s very attractive, and she understands you completely, and you can always count on her to be there for you, even if she does sometimes smell a bit too strongly of musk-”

“Musk?” Emma was even more confused. “Regina has never smelled of musk-”

But her mother wasn’t really listening, still rambling on, “But that’s only near full moon nights, and it’s not _really_ that bad. Hardly noticeable in fact, once you get used to it…” Her voice petered out when she caught Emma staring. “What?”

“Huh.” Emma said thoughtfully.

“Hmm. Anyway. What was I saying? Oh yes. Regina’s your best friend. And you and her…you’ve-” She paused. “You’ve come a long way together.”

“We have,” Emma said, her voice soft.

“Oh,” Snow breathed out, realisation dawning. “You always have been, haven’t you? Together.”

 

* * * * *

 

It was a few days later, and rather a lot had happened. Emma had temporarily moved into her parents’ basement for one thing, and Hope was thrilled to have her doting grandparents and fun-loving uncle close by virtually all the time. She was getting to the stage where she was pulling herself up to stand on tottering legs, and she was soaking up the grown ups’ delightful reactions (ranging from excitement to terror, depending on what she was using to haul herself upright with).

Emma was having less of a good time. Primarily because her mother would not leave her alone about speaking to Regina.

 

“It’s been _days,_ Emma. Don’t you want to see her?”

“Two days! And of course I do! But I was such an idiot. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you!”

“She doesn’t love me either.”

“Emma! Have you been paying any kind of attention at all over the last….gods I don’t even know how many years you’ve known each other, but it’s been long enough for you to have _noticed_ that Regina does not not love you!”

“That makes my head hurt!”

“Think about how _I_ feel!”

“This isn’t about _you!”_

_“Fine! I’ll_ go speak to her!”

“Mother!”

 

* * * * *

 

Regina looked up from reading Emma’s panicked text, the first communication she’d had from her since the night Emma had fled from the manor, mumbling incoherent apologies as she’d disappeared into the dark. Regina’s incandescent rage had cooled almost as soon as she’d seen the lights of the Bug fade into the distance. But the rage had been replaced with hurt, and all told, she preferred the anger; it was a more familiar and less troublesome emotion for her.

She was still wavering between fury and misery when Emma’s name popped up on her phone screen. The message was short enough that it fit into the notification banner; she didn’t even need to unlock her screen to read: _my mother’s coming. please don’t kill her._

The words had barely registered with her before there was a discrete knock on her office door. Her secretary stuck her head in.

“Snow White, I presume?” Regina said, with a little touch of amusement at the surprise her guess caused.

“Yes, your Majesty. She doesn’t have an appointment.”

“I know. There’s no use fighting it though.” Regina sighed. “Let her in.”

“Regina,” Snow said perfunctorily as she marched into the office.

“Snow,” Regina deadpanned. “Your daughter has just been begging for your life. Please don’t tell me this is about your ridiculous idea for bird houses on every lawn.”

“You’re talking to Emma again?”

Regina started back. “I..what?”

“I know you’ve not been talking. She’s been a complete wet blanket about it.”

“Emma is not..Emma has been _what?”_

“Laying around my basement being miserable.”

“Why is Emma in your basement?” She got to her feet. “And what do you mean _miserable?”_

“Miserable. My daughter. Because of you.”

_“Me!_ What did I- I haven’t done-”

“She may have been an idiot-”

“She _is,”_ Regina muttered fervently.

“But this has gone on long enough.”

“I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“Do you know she doesn’t think she deserves True Love.”

“Snow-”

“Do you know she doesn’t think you love her.”

“- I don’t… Wait. What do you know about-”

“I may not be the quickest on the uptake-”

“You’re really not.”

“-but I do know this. I know love when I see it.” She took Regina’s hand. “Please, Regina. Be the strong one here? Give her a second chance?”


	3. Chapter 3

Regina stalked into the diner, her footfalls echoing with purpose as she strode across the floor, eyes focused like lasers on Emma’s back.

She couldn’t miss how Emma had frozen in place, as though she’d sensed Regina behind her before she’d even entered the diner. She’d tightened her grip on the edge of the counter, throwing her knuckles into sharp relief and turning her fingertips deathly white.

Emma didn’t turn to face Regina, and the tension poured off her so strongly, Regina took pity on her and ignored her too. Instead she spoke directly to Granny. “She’ll take that to go.”

Granny looked from one woman to the other, the one staring holes into the countertop, the other stiff-backed and haughty.

“Are you two fighting?”

Regina sniffed dismissively. “Of course not.”

“Only, if you are planning on tearing up the joint, I’d rather you didn’t”

“We’re not fighting,” Regina repeated. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the countertop. Emma stiffened at the nearness of Regina’s hand to her own, and Regina frowned.

“Right,” Granny said carefully. She disappeared into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Emma whispered hoarsely.

“You’re coming with me,” Regina replied shortly, offering no further explanation than that. There were too many witnesses here, and it would be too easy for Emma to run from an embarrassing conversation.

Granny returned with a heavy take-out bag. She placed it carefully in front of Emma. “Grilled cheese. Fries. Sausage gravy. Chocolate milkshake. Don’t know about you, but that sounds like fighting food to me.”

“Pay the woman,” Regina said to Emma, and turned sharply on her heel. “I’ll be outside.”

 

She waited in the Mercedes, hoping. She’d left Emma alone to decide for herself if she wanted to come with her or not. Regina would not force her into a conversation, no matter how badly she may have wanted to. And Emma, for all her bravery when it came to risking her own life for others, could still be dreadfully wary of risking her heart.

Regina breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Emma come out of the diner and walk towards her car.

Emma climbed into the passenger seat, the take-out bag clutched tightly in one hand; she kept the other on the door release, as though she were prepared to make a hasty exit if things turned nasty.

“Are we fighting?” she asked.

Regina sighed and started up the engine.

“Your mother came to see me.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I tried to stop her.”

“I don’t blame you. I know what she’s like.”

They were past main street now, winding their way out of town. Emma cleared her throat. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet.”

“Where you can bury my body in peace?” Emma asked, her voice very small.

Regina took her eyes off the road for a second to glare at her. “I already said we’re not fighting. Eat your lunch. Before it stains my seats.”

Emma nodded, and unwrapped the grilled cheese. She took a bite, giving a quiet half-sigh of contentment. Regina couldn’t help the amused little twist of her smile. She huffed angrily, not quite ready to soften entirely. “Drowning your sorrows in grease and salt?”

“An’ choc’late,” Emma mumbled through a cheese-filled mouth. “You wanna fry?”

Regina sighed. “Yes.”

The fries were nearly gone before she spoke again. “I just want to talk. Somewhere quiet. Where half the realms aren’t going to come knocking on my door asking for something.”

“They’re a demanding bunch, huh?” Emma said sympathetically. “We’re still trying to work out jurisdiction stuff - you know the sort of thing - my cockatrice laid an egg in this realm, but then the troll dragged it off over to that realm, so who’s responsible for rescuing the tigers fleeing from the forest fire.”

“We need a bigger fire department,” Regina muttered.

“We do,” Emma agreed morosely. She looked around as the car started to slow down. “Are we there already?”

Regina brought the car to a halt, and climbed out. Emma paused for a few moments, taking in their surroundings, then scrambled after her.Regina leaned against the hood, balancing first on one leg then the other, so she could take her shoes off; her heels were already sinking into the ground, and she knew from experience that if she kept them on, she’d not be able to rid them completely of sand for weeks.

She had brought them to the edge of an empty stretch of beach, in the section of the no-man’s land that divided two realms. There was nothing to either side of them but pale gold sand, nothing in front of them but the dark ocean. It was lonely and the shushing of waves breaking on the shore deadened all other sounds; Emma’s voice seemed very loud when she asked, “You come here often?”

Regina grinned wryly. “I like the sea. It’s hard to look at that and not realise how very small and insignificant you are. Just a tiny cog in a very large wheel.”

Emma stared at her in some surprise. “You _want_ to feel that?”

Regina nodded, her eyes still fixed on the sea. “Some days. Some days I need that reminder very much.” Some days the mantle of Queen was very heavy indeed; knowing that she held the fate of so many in her hands left her feeling almost drunk with power. That was when she’d come here, face the might of the ocean, and remember that she could be small and human too.

Emma shrugged. “Hook likes the sea.”

Regina snorted. “That’s handy, seeing as he’s a pirate.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah. He likes the adventure of it. Always something new to conquer.” She sighed. “I don’t think he should have given it up. He’s not really made for life on land.”

Regina nodded. She could understand that; understand how waking up to the same view everyday, always being harboured in the same port, could wear on a man like Hook. “Snow told me you’re ending it with him.”

“Yeah. We’d just been at the lawyers. That’s why the grilled cheese.”

“He’s not taking it well?”

“We’re trying to work out visitation. He’s a good father. He’s just…not for me.”

Regina nodded. It was an opening at least, this acknowledgement. She wandered away from the car; Emma followed after her. Regina led them to where a large log had found its final resting place, in a sheltered spot where a scattered carpet of grass grew. They sat, not so close that they were touching, but close enough so it felt like Emma was offering Regina some protection from the wind that gusted off the water.

“I’m angry with you,” Regina said quietly.

Emma shivered. “I know. You have every right to be.”

Regina turned so she could finally look at Emma; her eyebrow arched in query. Snow had begged for a second chance for her daughter. Regina could only take that so far though. The rest was up to Emma.

Emma gulped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I should have told you. I should have told you how I feel before I ever kissed you.”

“You should have _asked-”_ Regina started to say, but Emma cut her off.

“I _know!_ I’m terrible with words. I don’t know how to make…” her voice trailed off for a moment, then she straightened, her shoulders squaring, eyes narrowing. “Do you know fire?”

Regina’s brow creased with a confused frown, not entirely sure if Emma was making a joke. “I have a passing acquaintance with it.”

“You know how you can have a bonfire. Like, a big, raging, bonfire? And it’s all heat and fury, and there’s sparks flying off everywhere, and it’s so _noisy_ , and you have to keep little children back from it because it’s not safe? It’s powerful, and scary, and you’re always worried that it’s going to get away from you and destroy everything?”

Regina nodded, eyes fixed on Emma’s animated face. The more she spoke, the brighter her eyes grew and the more life returned to her. Soon she was no longer the subdued, near-fearful person Regina had picked up in the diner.

“Right, so that’s a bit like how I saw you,” Emma continued. “That’s a bit like how I felt about you.” Regina started to protest at that, but Emma held up a hand to stave it off before she’d done more than open her mouth. Emma kept speaking, hurried and urgent, as though she were afraid she’d lose the words if she stopped them spilling from her lips.

“But then, you know how a bonfire dies down? It burns off and everything gets softer, quieter. It’s still warm. But it’s safe now. Cozy. Nice. It feels so nice to sit there and watch it be all glowy, and you can toast marshmallows on it. And it’s good. And then you think, oh it’s gone. All the flames have gone. It’s just a memory now. But then you find the coals, and those are still hot, right. And you realise you can take those coals with you. And you can touch them off against something else, and then whoosh! you’ve got your fire again. And it never really went away. It was there. It was always there, just waiting for the right fuel and the right time. And then the fire’s back, and everything’s burning again, and it’s so good. And…and this metaphor may be getting away from me a bit, Regina. But that’s it. That’s how I feel about you. And I should have told you.”

“That may have helped,” Regina said, her voice throaty.

“I don’t want you to think it was about scratching an itch. That I was there only because I was bored and horny. I…just couldn’t think of the words. But I should have said _something._ I should have told you.”

Regina reached out and took Emma’s hand. “I would have liked that,” she said, meaning every word. “Very much. But that’s not why I’m angry with you.”

“Oh?” Emma said, her face crestfallen.

“No,” Regina said. “I’m angry because you don’t think I feel the same way.”

“Ah. Right.” Emma looked away from her to stare at their hands; Emma’s hand was slightly bigger than Regina’s, but it suddenly seemed smaller, as though Emma was shrinking back into herself.

“You’re the mother of my son.” Regina said, then a thought struck her, and she laughed, a bright, happy sound. “Of _all_ my sons. You’re my friend. You’re the person who has never given up on me. Has never wavered. Has believed in me…believed _for_ me when I couldn’t. I owe you my heart, my happiness. And when I realised you didn’t think that meant you were loved…I was angry, Emma.”

She had been furious. It was possibly an irrational response, but she couldn’t believe how obtuse Emma was being. She’d thought she’d been terribly obvious in her feelings; in fact, after the wedding, she’d deliberately kept from seeing Emma very often, certain that she would betray herself. When Hope came along, it had got a bit easier for Regina to be around Emma, to mask the pleasure she took in her company behind her very real love for the little girl. The last thing in the world she wanted was Emma’s pity. But instead of pity, she found herself confronted with Emma’s blindness, with her stubborn refusal to acknowledge the truth that was right in front of her.

“Sorry,” Emma mumbled, rubbing her nose with her free hand. She wouldn’t meet Regina’s eyes, kept staring at their joined hands instead.

Regina shook her head, made an exasperated noise. “You’re such a _Charming.”_ So hard-headed that only a sharp shock would make any impression. “Will only a True Love kiss convince you?”

Emma looked up at that, frowning a little.

“You know the problem with True Love’s kiss?” Regina asked, her voice suddenly low and humming. She shifted closer, pulling Emma a little further towards her. “We only hear about it in times of crises. When the world needs saving, or we have to defy death. When someone we love is in danger. When fate hangs in the balance. It’s urgent and it’s the last hope and _everything_ hinges on it. That’s the power of True Love, isn’t it? What makes it so heady. It can do _anything_ \- when the chips are down.”

Emma nodded, seeming unable to look away from Regina.

Regina smiled, soft and sweet. She had her now. She reached up to cup Emma’s cheek.

“No one’s in danger now,” she said. “There’s nothing to defy. There’s just you and me. It’s just us. I’m going to kiss you now, Emma. And I want you to pay attention, pay attention to what you feel.”

She shifted even closer, Emma’s cheek cool and smooth against her palm, and leaned up to bring their lips together. Regina’s eyes fluttered closed. It was a soft kiss. Possibly the softest kiss in the history of kisses. The merest brush of mouths, the gentlest of pressure; light and soft and sweet, and it seemed to stretch on forever.

Emma gasped.

Regina was filled with light. She could feel her heart glow. She forced her eyes open. Emma’s face was suffused with light. Her eyes were open too, and they shone, bright with happiness. 

They broke apart, panting.

“How-” Emma gasped. “How did you..how did _we_ do that?”

Regina sighed, and leaned into her, tucking her head under Emma’s chin. She loved how well she fitted, how Emma’s arms curled reflexively around her to hold her steady against her body. “That’s what True Love feels like when it’s not trying to save the world.”

There was a little more to it than that. She may have been just a little sneaky. But the truth was there was no reason you couldn’t draw on True Love’s power in times of non-crisis - as long as you knew how to tap into it, and it was two powerful magic users doing the kissing. And they didn’t come much more powerful in magic than the Saviour and the Good Queen.

Emma hummed, and Regina felt the rumbling of it against her cheek. “So, will it feel like that every time we kiss?”

Regina grinned. “Why don’t you find out?”

She felt Emma laugh, a sound so silent she could barely hear it, but she felt it thrum through her body. Then Emma’s hand was on her chin, tilting her face out and up so she could kiss her. This wasn’t as soft as before, there was a little more heat to it, more tongue; Regina found herself clutching the leather of Emma’s jacket, moaning up into Emma’s mouth.

“Nice,” Emma whispered, and kissed her again.

Regina pulled back eventually, laughing and not a little breathless. “I think we should go.”

“So soon?” Emma groused, leaning forward to nuzzle against her chin. “We just got here.”

“You’re still a married woman,” Regina reminded her drily.

“Not for much longer,” Emma promised, and kissed her as though to seal a pact between them.


	4. Epilogue

Regina heard the knock on the door and knew it was Emma; she’d been waiting for her. The manor was unusually empty tonight; knowing what day it was, her family had all chosen entertainments that would keep them out of the house until morning. 

Junior was at the movies with Lucy and her parents, and then he’d be sleeping over at their place. He had begun to study with Henry about being an Author, another part of his journey along the path to adulthood. Much like her older son had once done, Junior was seeking out his place in the world, trying out different things to see where he fit. He spent time with David and Snow - training in the weapons and strategies of this new world; he went hiking in the woods of Oz with Granny and Red, and they taught him how to track and hunt like a wolf; he travelled regularly through the other realms, learning about their histories and the people who lived there.

Regina could already see the traces of the man - and perhaps the King - Junior would one day be; it was a bittersweet thing, to watch her son grow away from her again, to feel the same fear and hope and pride for him all over again.

But tonight was a night to think about a different sort of future.

 

Emma was leaning against her door jamb, smiling, her eyes soft on Regina’s face.

“Come in,” she said, leading the way to the kitchen.

She was pouring a mug of ale when Emma joined her. She’d taken off her boots, but had left her jacket on; her hair fell in loose curls to her shoulders; she was wearing one of Regina’s favourite shirts, and a pair of jeans that could only be described as sinful.

Emma grinned when she caught Regina’s gaze lingering.

She took a sip of her ale, took a deep breath and said, “It’s done.”

“Oh?” - even though she knew, she wanted to hear Emma say it.

“Signed the last of the papers. Packed up the last of the boxes. Moved them over to Snow and David’s, for now. It’s over. It’s done.”

“Hope?”

“With mum and dad. Hook’s taken a room at Granny’s. Said he couldn’t bear to stay at the house.” Emma shrugged. “That means half of Storybrooke will know by morning.”

“And your mother’s chairing a PTA meeting at lunch, which means the rest of the realm will know before dinner.”

Emma laughed, unable to deny it.

She leaned into the table, drank some more ale. Her eyes were suddenly sombre.

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, softly concerned.

“Yeah,” Emma said, a little hesitant. “It’s weird, you know. I know it’s the right thing to do, for me _and_ for Hope. But still…”

“Endings are hard.”

“Yeah. Unhappy endings.” She shook her head. “I always thought that was where I was headed. Before Henry brought me here. It’s why I wished so hard - for family, for someone to love. Never thought I’d get it. It’s why Hook…why I thought.…”

Regina reached forward and took Emma’s hand. “We have to be careful what we wish for, Emma. I’ve found wishes often get twisted - you may get what you wished for but in ways you never expected.”

Emma smiled wryly and leaned into Regina. “I’m not sorry I wished for love and family. The universe delivered. It may have taken us a while, and I never imagined how much we’d have to break and mend before we got here. But we’re here. And this is exactly where I want to be, Regina.”

Regina sighed; she curled her hand around Emma’s neck and pulled her closer so she could kiss her. Emma hummed contentedly and shifted them until Regina had her hips against the counter. “You’re getting better with your words,” Regina whispered, her voice gravelly. Emma was nibbling her ear lobe, and the sensation of sharp teeth and a warm, wet, mouth on such a sensitive part of her body was making Regina shiver. Desire coiled low in her belly.

“D’you really think so?” Emma whispered. Her tongue flickered along the shell of Regina’s ear, making her clench and moan and dig her fingers into Emma’s shoulders. “I always thought I was better with the action stuff, you know?”

Emma bent her knees just enough to allow her to wrap her arms around Regina’s upper thighs and then straightened, lifting Regina and depositing her onto the counter; she could feel Emma’s muscles flex and harden under her fingers.

“Show off,” Regina muttered, but she kissed her long and hard, the heavy coil in her belly tightening into a throbbing ache. She was damp between her thighs, but it was nothing compared to the flood of arousal she felt when rough fingers pushed her skirt higher up her thighs so Emma could nudge her knees apart and wedge herself between them.

Regina hummed her approval and began to unbutton Emma’s shirt. She was very fond of this shirt, but right this moment, she very much needed it to be anywhere else but on Emma’s body.

“Wait,” Emma said, making it virtually impossible to comply as she kissed and suckled her way down Regina’s throat. “Wait, there’s something I have to do first.”

Regina could see the effort it took for Emma to pull herself away, and so she rewarded her with a sweet kiss.

“Behave,” Emma growled. That earned her a nip to her lower lip.

By then Regina had regained enough of her composure and could focus on what Emma was doing. She had pulled something from her pocket and was holding it on the open palm of her hand. It was a gold band; thick and intricately carved, it glinted in the overhead lights.

Emma twisted her wrist this way and that; they watched the ring slide across her palm. She closed her hand over it. There was a burst of white light as Emma’s magic flared. She opened her fist. All that was left of the ring was a thin grey powder. She blew gently, and the powder flew off into the air and dissipated away to nothing.

_“Now_ may I fuck you?” Emma asked, her voice innocent, her eyes glinting wickedly.

Regina shook with laughter. She wrapped her arms around Emma and pulled her back to her, kissed her deeply. “You’d better.”

After she’d made Regina come the first time, after making her whimper and shiver at how gently and softly she caressed and stroked her, making her beg, but making her wait, until all Regina could think about, all she could feel, was Emma’s mouth on her breast, and Emma’s fingers on her clit, and Emma’s voice in her ear, ordering her to come, telling her it would be all right, that she had her, that she was hers. After all that, Regina curled herself into Emma’s arms, and said in a shaky voice, “I love you.”

“I know.” 

Regina could hear the insufferable grin in her voice; but it didn’t matter. The confidence of her reply made Regina beam.

“D’you remember,” Emma said, sounding less confident now, “when you kicked me out before - you told me to go home?”

Regina shifted back so she could look at her, the little tremor in Emma’s voice making her curious and a little wary.

“I remember being _so_ confused for a moment,” Emma continued. “Because as far as I was concerned, I was already home. Every time I came into this house, every time I was here with you. I was home, Regina. It just took me an awfully long time to realise it.”

There was a lump in Regina’s throat, and she knew her eyes had filled with tears, and this would never do. This was not a time for tears or regrets. She kissed Emma. “Welcome home then, my love.”

Emma’s face brightened. “This using your words thing, it’s pretty good. I should have tried it ages ago. I have this other metaphor I’ve been working on - why you’re like the sea. Choppy exterior, hidden depths, filled with scary stuff, but also-“

“That’s an analogy,” Regina interrupted drily. “Not a metaphor.”

“You didn’t let me get to the good bit yet!” Emma complained, pouting. “The bit where I say I want to dive right in and get completely soaking wet with-“

“Emma!” Regina gasped, mock horrified. “If that’s the sort of thing you’re after, I have only one thing to say to you. We’d better move this upstairs.”

“Right,” Emma responded enthusiastically as she helped Regina down off the counter. She began to shrug out of her jacket, but Regina stopped her.

“Oh, no. You can lose the rest of it. But leave _that_ on.”

She was half way to the door before she realised Emma wasn’t following, that she was still standing, slack jawed and eyes glazed over, by the counter.

“Come along, Miss Swan. We’ve only got all night.”

Emma shook herself. “Yeah,” she muttered. Then she grinned. “Coming, your Majesty.”

 

* * * *

 

Regina was standing outside Granny’s, waiting for Emma. She was crouched beside’s Hope’s stroller, playing with the little fabric book that she loved so much. It was colourful and filled with all sorts of interesting pictures and textures. Hope’s favourite thing to do with it right now was chew on the edges till they were wilted and then throw the book from the stroller so someone had to fetch it back for her. She loved when Regina called it back to them with magic. She’d giggle and wave her chubby little arms about, trying to mimic Regina’s casting.

They couldn’t be sure yet, but Regina had her suspicions that Hope was going to be as powerful in magic as Emma was. She would definitely be much better trained than her mother; Regina was going to see to that personally. There would be no mysterious teachers with selfish motivations in Hope’s future. She was going to learn to use magic right - for the good of the world, not to destroy it.

Emma came out of the diner, balancing two coffee cups in one hand and a tiny fruit ice in the other.

“What took so long?” Regina asked as she gave Hope her icy treat. “There was no one else in there.”

“Granny was warning me about you,” Emma said thoughtfully.

Regina sighed. “It’s not surprising, I suppose. Some people’s memories-“

“She was telling me that if I ever hurt you, I’d never be welcome in the diner again.”

“She was worried about _you_ hurting _me?”_

“uh huh.”

“Is she feeling all right?”

Emma grinned wryly. “I’m the one with the reputation for running, Regina. You’re the one who stands and fights. Granny really likes that about you.”

“You don’t run,” Regina said gently, squeezing Emma’s hand comfortingly. “Not when it really matters. And even if you do, you always come back.”

“I’ve got a lot to stay put for,” Emma pointed out. She leaned in and kissed Regina.

They strolled down main street towards their respective offices. Hope was going to be hanging out with Emma this morning. The sheriff was making the rounds of the animal shelter and the petting zoo and the park. Good, important, police work. They’d meet Regina for a picnic lunch in the park, and then go home together. Henry and Ella were coming round for dinner; Junior was cooking the main meal, Snow and David were bringing dessert. This was a not-unusual Friday now, but no less precious to them for it.

They passed several people on their walk, and invariably got the greeting “Good morning Sheriff, Your Majesty.”

“I’m going to have to make you a knight,” Regina said after the fourth such salutation.

“What? Why?”

“I’m the queen, Emma. The Queen and the Sheriff … doesn’t have the right sort of ring to it. The Queen and her _Knight_ though-“

“I’ll have you remember that I’m a princess before I’m the sheriff!” Emma said hotly. “What’s wrong with the Queen and the Princess?”

“Doesn’t scan,” Regina grinned.

“Doesn’t scan!” Emma spluttered.

“Besides - when was the last time you claimed your princess title?”

“That’s not the point!”

“And knights have such a lovely uniform,” Regina said, suddenly sultry. “All that armour. You’d look very good in silver and blue.”

“huh.” Emma said. “Could I have a squire?”

“I’m sure Neal would make a fine squire. And Lucy. She’s been wanting to improve her skills with a sword, and riding.”

“hmm. And they have to do what I say, right? If they’re my squires?”

Regina frowned. “You don’t get to order our granddaughter to make you a hot chocolate whenever you feel like it, Emma.

“Why not? Squires have to obey their knights!”

“And knights have to obey their queen!”

“Like I don’t already!” Emma countered heatedly.

“Really?!”

“Really! I don’t hear you complaining about me doing what I’m told. Unless you mean all that moaning you were doing last night-“

“Emma!”

They both looked down at Hope, who was too busy worrying away at her ice-lolly to pay too much attention to her mothers’ bickering. Emma shrugged apologetically at Regina and kissed her forehead.

They walked on in silence for a few steps.

“So. Armour, huh? Do I get a sword?”


End file.
